The Wistful Witness

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2026-08-18 02:46:55 -

The rain fell in sheets of iron, cold enough to numb the bone, as Silas Vane stood on the precipice of the Shattered Gate, his hands wrapped around the hilt of a sword that had not drawn blood in three years. He was not fighting a man, nor a beast, but the very air, which had turned thick and viscous with the weight of the curse he had carried since his youth. The mist rolled in from the valley...

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